Of all interesting objects of architectural antiquity in Ratisbon, none struck me so forcibly—­and indeed none is in itself so curious and singular—­as the MONASTERY OF ST. JAMES, before slightly alluded to.  The front of that portion of it, connected with the church, should seem to be of an extremely remote antiquity.  It is the ornaments, or style of architecture, which give it this character of antiquity.  The ornaments, which are on each side of the door way, or porch, are quite extraordinary, and appear as if the building had been erected by Mexicans or Hindoos.

Quaglio has made a drawing, and published a lithographic print of the whole of this entrance.  I had conjectured the building to be of the twelfth century, and was pleased to have my conjecture confirmed by the assurance of one of the members of the college (either Mr. Richardson or Mr. Sharp) that the foundations of the building were laid in the middle of the XIIth century; and that, about twenty miles off, down the Danube, there was another monastery, now in ruins, called Mosburg, if I mistake not—­which was built about the same period, and which exhibited precisely the same style of architecture.

But if the entire college, with the church, cloisters, sitting rooms, and dormitories, was productive of so much gratification, the contents of these rooms, including the members themselves, were productive of yet greater.  To begin with the Head, or President, DR. C. ARBUTHNOT:  one of the finest and healthiest looking old gentlemen I ever beheld—­in his eighty-second year.  I should however premise, that the members of this college—­only six or eight in number, and attached to the interests of the Stuarts—­have been settled here almost from their infancy:  some having arrived at seven, and others at twelve, years of age.  Their method of speaking their own language is very singular; and rather difficult of comprehension.  Nor is the French, spoken by them, of much better pronunciation.  Of manners the most simple, and apparently of principles the most pure, they seem to be strangers to those wants and wishes which frequently agitate a more numerous and polished establishment; and to move, as it were, from the cradle to the grave ...

  “The world forgetting, by the world forgot.”

As soon as the present Head ceases to exist,[161] the society is to be dissolved—­and the building to be demolished.[162] I own that this intelligence, furnished me by one of the members, gave a melancholy and yet more interesting air to every object which I saw, and to every Member with whom I conversed.  The society is of the Benedictine order, and there is a large whole length portrait, in the upper cloisters, or rather corridor, of ST. BENEDICT—­with the emphatic inscription of “PATER MONACHORUM.”  The library was carefully visited by me, and a great number of volumes inspected.  The local is small and unpretending:  a mere corridor, communicating